


everything unsaid and cherished

by mabi_lune



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, Comfort, M/M, character study-ish?, ep.154 killed me and I needed to write about hugs, ft. Martin being adorable and perfect, lots and lots of hugs, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 07:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20738531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mabi_lune/pseuds/mabi_lune
Summary: 5 times Martin hugged Jon, and one time he didn’t have to.





	everything unsaid and cherished

**Author's Note:**

> Like most of my fics, this stared off very cute in my head and then it turned into angst I'm sorry >.<

1

The very first time Martin hugged Jon, he vowed to himself never to do it again.

It was about a month into Martin’s new job as archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, and just 4 days before Christmas. Martin and Sasha had insisted on having a Christmas party before everyone left for the holidays. Said party had included copious amounts of rum eggnog, tinsel decorations haphazardly strewn across the Archives, and gingerbread cookies (Martin had volunteered to bake them). Martin, Sasha, Tim and Jon were the last ones to leave that night, and they’d gathered on the steps in front of the Institute to say their goodbyes.

Martin hugged Tim and Sasha goodbye. The eggnog in his system had mellowed the entire world around him, and truth be told Martin just really liked hugs. As he stepped out of Sasha’s arms though, he caught Jon’s eyes. He thought about how rude it would look to leave without hugging him, too. And before Martin could take a second to reflect upon the terrible consequences his actions could have (which realistically ranged from Jon killing him to Jon asking Elias to fire him), he had already pulled Jon into his arms. 

Hugging Jon reminded Martin of hugging a cat. Jon was very much an isolated creature and yet Martin was animated by a profound desire to pull him even closer to him. He didn’t though. Really their embrace only lasted a few seconds, just enough for Martin to catch the scent of gingerbread and paper that lingered upon him. Just enough for Martin to notice how easy it was to fold Jon’s thin body into his arms. 

When he let go, Jon buried his face into his scarf up to his nose, said a quick ‘goodbye’ and walked away. For a few precious hours, Martin was very proud of his bravado. 

That lasted right up until he woke up completely sober the next morning. 

Then Martin felt very far from proud. Because why, why, why did he have to do that? Jon was his boss. And a scary boss at that. One who already thought Martin was capable of contributing very little to the Archives. But no, Martin had just had to hug him. It was incredibly silly, not to mention unprofessional. And it led to two weeks of Martin very obviously avoiding Jon at work, unable to control the blush that rushed up his cheeks whenever they made eye contact.

No, Martin decided, hugging Jon was not worth it (not even a little bit).

2

The second time it happened, well, Martin wouldn’t even consider it a hug. Besides, he doesn’t like to think about that day anyway.

All that it was, was Martin’s arm tight around Jon, his hand pressed against Jon’s ribcage. He could feel Jon’s heartbeat. It was erratic, and Jon’s entire body trembled slightly along with it, but Martin couldn’t think of a single thing he would rather feel right then than Jon’s heart, beating on.  
It wasn’t a hug, it was Martin being supportive, and ‘there’ for Jon. Isn’t that what coworkers do? And yes, maybe coworkers don’t get injured while fleeing from a supernatural worm infestation. And maybe a normal coworker wouldn’t have paced around the Institute for hours until finally the police found Jon and dragged him out of the Archives along with Tim, both barely conscious and bleeding from hundreds of serpentine wounds. And maybe it wasn’t quite normal for Martin to have refused to leave Jon’s side while he was being treated, an arm always clinging to him, not willing to let go. The doctor told him that he should get some rest, that Jon was so high on pain medication that he wouldn’t even notice (much less remember) whether Martin was by his side or not.

But Martin wasn’t… thinking quite clearly then. Wasn’t thinking at all really. His mind was just stuck, replaying the moment when Martin had turned around in the tunnels and had realized he had gotten separated from Jon, that he had left him behind. He couldn’t stop thinking about how surprised he was at the sense of profound loss that had rushed through him then. 

Martin had never felt so alone as when he thought Jon might be dead. 

He’d had a small crush on Jon, he was aware of that. He liked how Jon’s clothes always looked like they had been slept in, crumpled and softened. He liked how Jon’s voice softened when he was reading statements late into the night. He liked how he could make anything seem important, and worthy of his utmost attention. He liked Jon.

His ‘crush’ had gotten worse once Jon had told him to use the spare room in the Archives, when he hadn’t bothered to conceal the worry on his face (and when he had lent Martin his sweater that first night, before he’d been able to move his things out of his flat yet). But truly, Martin wouldn’t have called it much more than a crush. Right then though, holding on to Jon, he realized that he might have been fooling himself just a little, or maybe a lot.

3

The third time it happened, Martin was sober, and Jon wasn’t just barely conscious. 

No, this time Martin was very aware of what he was doing. He had barely left Jon’ office before he turned around and pushed the door open again. Jon had just more or less asked Martin if he was plotting against him or had some deep dark secrets he was hiding from him. And Martin had had to explain that he wasn’t hiding some malicious plan, but that he had lied on his CV to get hired here. And then Martin had left. As soon as he was out the door though, he realized he couldn’t just laugh Jon’s paranoia away and leave things as they were. 

So here he was again.

Jon was still leaning against the bookshelf, as he had been at the end of their conversation. His head was bent down, and he was seemingly lost in thought. He didn’t even notice Martin coming back in.

“Jon?” Martin said, taking a few steps towards him, so that his shoes entered Jon’s line of sight on the carpet.

He looked up, slightly startled. His lips started forming a question, but before he said anything, Martin had pulled him into his arms. He’d leaned down slightly, so that Jon’s chin ended up right above his shoulder.  
Jon remained completely still for a few second, and then, slowly, his arms reached up around Martin’s back. His fingers were so hesitant that Martin barely felt them over his sweater. Jon relaxed in his arms, and Martin held him a little tighter. 

“Martin?” Jon asked, but he didn’t pull away. Martin did though, moving back just far enough so that he could see Jon’s face. His hands stayed on the other man’s arms.

“I cannot believe that you thought I could be… what? Plotting against you? Trying to hurt you?” Martin had hoped to sound angry, but even he could hear that what came through his voice was hurt and confusion.

“It’s-” Jon began, then stopped. “You have every right to be upset.”

“And I am! Or I was, for about a minute, and then I was just angry. Really angry, actually because- because how on earth could you possibly think I would want to hurt you? I would-” he hesitated, “I would never… hurt you.”

Jon didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure there was anything that he could say to make this better.

“You’re not alone, Jon,” Martin said. He silently prayed that his hands on Jon’s arms conveyed the same message. “And… and you have every right to be paranoid, I get that, but you have to trust some people, okay? You have to trust Tim, and Sasha, and- and you have to trust me. Just come and talk to us if you want to know something. You can’t do this- whatever this is- all by yourself.”

Martin was out of breath and his heart was beating fast, but he’d said everything he needed to say, or mostly everything. There were a few ‘I love you’s that he had cut out of his speech. They would only confuse things, he thought. This whole situation was already complicated enough.

Jon watched him, wide-eyed and regretful. He struggled to find the right words.

“You’re right, Martin. Of course, you’re right. I just can’t- I can’t stop feeling like something is watching me all the time, waiting for me to let my guard down,” he paused, “But I do, you know? Trust you, I mean. And… and I’m going to try my best to trust the others too. I shouldn’t have… shouted like that. Or questioned your motives.”

“That’s okay. I just… wanted you to know I was here for you.”

Martin finally let his hands fall away from Jon. They had never felt so empty. And he finally realized how close he was standing to him, just a few inches between the two of them. He took a quick step back. Now that the adrenaline had left him, he felt the burn of a blush coming onto his cheeks. 

Flustered, he stammered, “At-at least you don’t think I’m a ghost anymore, I guess. So that’s… a welcome change.”

And then he half-ran, half-walked out of Jon’s office before the Archivist could reply.

4

The fourth time was quiet. It had felt, fragile, somehow. Like Martin was trying to regain his footing with Jon after he returned from Georgie’s, like he was still trying to figure out what this new phase of… whatever it was that they had would look like.

Martin had stayed late. It was already past 11pm, and he was quite sure he was the only person left in the Archives, and possibly in the Magnus Institute as a whole. He’d gotten caught up in a follow-up, and when he’d finally looked up from his desk, everyone had gone. He stretched and yawned, exhausted. But at least he felt like he was finally getting somewhere with his research. He decided to go make himself a cup of tea in order to wake himself up a little, so that he could get it done today. He’d just come in late tomorrow, to make up for his lack of sleep. Or maybe not come back at all, because who kept track of anything going on in the Archives anymore? Tim had vanished and gone travelling for weeks, and then he’d returned without any explanation. And Elias surely wasn’t showing himself much anymore. So yes, Martin thought, he could just take tomorrow off.

He noticed that the light in Jon’s office was still on when he headed to the kitchenette to start the kettle. It wasn’t unusual for Jon to stay so late (these days it was more unusual for him to leave before early morning), but Martin was surprised not to see him at his desk. He peeked his head into the office.

He found his Archivist on the floor. He was sitting cross-legged, his back bent over forward. His elbows were digging into his legs, while his hands were pressed against his eyes, palms over eyelids. Around him were strewn dozens of typed pages, which Martin recognized as statements once he got closer. Jon’s breathing was fast and raspy. He sounded like he was terrified of running out of air, but no more than he was terrified that the air he was inhaling would choke him. The distress in his breathing shook his whole body.

Martin resisted the urge to drop down to the floor and hold him. He didn’t want to scare him any more than he already was. He resisted too, the urge to ask the dozens of questions that swirled in his mind. Statements could be… a lot to handle, Martin knew that, but it had been a while since he’d seen Jon so shaken up. Whatever it was though, Jon clearly wasn’t up to the task of discussing it right now.

So instead, Martin let himself sink down the carpet, slowly, careful not to the startle him. The floorboards beneath creaked under his movement, but Jon didn’t look up. Martin shuffled a bit so that he was sitting opposite to Jon. He reached a hand out, and lightly placed it on Jon’s arm. He could feel the tremors below his hand. He began rubbing slow and soft circles over Jon’s shirtsleeve with his thumb. 

The Archivist’s breathing slowed down- just a little. Martin made a small sound of relief. It destroyed him a bit, whenever Jon was like this. When he was so lost and overwhelmed and distressed that Martin was terrified he wouldn’t be able to find his way back out of his mind. And some part of him always got angry- angry because he knew that the Entities circling around the Archivist must love him like this, a well-stocked buffet of fear and anguish. Martin wouldn’t let them devour Jon.

After a few minutes, when Jon wasn’t shaking so much anymore, and when his breathing was less panicked, Martin bent forward on his knees and took Jon within his arms. Jon dropped his hands from his eyes and clung to him as well, burying his face into Martin’s chest. 

Martin forgot all about his tea.

5

The fifth time it happened, Jon was dead. Or dead-ish. Martin didn’t understand the science, and he understood the supernatural intricacies of it all even less. All he knew was that Jon had been comatose for almost four months now. Science-dead but not supernaturally dead. Whatever that meant.

Martin visited the hospital again two weeks after his mom passed away. He’d been going almost every day before her death, but the week after the funeral there wasn’t much he was capable of doing, especially if it required him leaving his flat. Melanie and Basira stopped by, of course. Melanie had even cooked a few times, and Martin would’ve commented on it if he thought he could talk at all. But today he had woken up and he had felt so lonely in his flat that he thought he might disappear. So, he had gone to Jon.

It was selfish of him, he knew, to hold Jon’s hand when he was like this, or to lay his head upon his chest.

But then it had been selfish of Jon to go on a suicide mission and to leave him behind.

So Martin stayed as he was. And for the first time in a week he began to talk again. He told Jon about the Archives first, about Peter Lukas who (ironically) refused to leave him alone. And then he talked about his mom, and about being lonely. About not being quite sure of who he was now that he had no one to care for, now that she was dead and now that there was nothing he could really do to help Jon. But then he also told Jon about how he had felt after that very first hug. Yes, Jon had walked off and Tim and Sasha had teased him relentlessly about ‘poking the bear’, but for the first time since joining the Archives, Martin had felt like he had done something right. Like joining the Institute was the right decision. And hindsight may be 20/20, and a lot of things had gone very wrong and had twisted since that day, but in that hospital room Martin told Jon that despite everything, he smiled when he thought about that hug.

And when Martin had said everything he could say, he went quiet, his fingers wrapped tightly around Jon’s.

He didn’t leave until he was asked to by a nurse. When he did, he found that he already felt less Lonely.

+1

Jon wasn’t feeling quite human. He’d been trying to stop taking live statements, so he relied on the little ‘nutrition’ old ones could provide him. The Archivist was tired and hungry. And those feelings weighed upon him so heavily that they pushed every other thought out of him. The more human parts of him were easily outweighed and overshadowed. Jon was acutely aware of how ironic it was that he felt more monstrous the more he tried to be human. 

He was pacing around the Archives now, restless. It was after midnight, but Jon hadn’t gone home, afraid that if he crossed someone’s path he wouldn’t be able not to See them, wouldn’t be able not to ask questions they couldn’t stop themselves from answering. He thought of Jane Prentiss. He thought about her a lot these days. And the more he remembered her statement, the more estranged he felt from the Jon who had blamed her for what she had become. On nights like these, Jon didn’t think becoming a monster would be so bad. It would hurt less, that was for sure. What good was being human anyway if all those around him still resented or feared him because of what he was turning into?

Amidst the quiet Jon heard a shuffling sound coming from the stairs leading out of the Artifact Storage. He stilled.  
There was silence and then a soft “Shit,” as Jon heard what sounded like papers falling to the ground. He recognized that voice. Before he could stop himself, Jon was across the Archives and by the stairs’ landing. 

Martin was squatting down on the floor, reaching for the mess of files and documents that had scattered there. He looked up as he heard Jon approaching. His eyes widened in surprise and he stood in a hurry. His hand grabbed the railing near him, like he needed to balance himself. Really, Martin was forcing himself to keep his distance, and preparing to turn away.

“Martin,” Jon whispered, “How are you?”

Martin looked torn. His hand gripped the railing tighter, “Jon, I- I can’t… Now’s not the best time to talk. I haven’t had a proper conversation in…a bit.” He looked down at his shoes, and then added, “I’m feeling more Lonely than human right now, and I don’t want to say anything that could hurt you. I don’t want to… push you away even further.”

He sounded so sorrowful that Jon wondered how this Martin could be the same Martin that had joyfully and loudly campaigned for a Christmas party and then drunkenly hugged him all those years ago. He wondered what Martin would be like if he hadn’t met him.  
Happier, probably. 

Jon couldn’t think of any comforting platitudes right now, couldn’t think of the perfect words to fix everything and to make up for being the reason that Martin’s life had splintered into tragedy. So instead he walked over to Martin and took him into his arms. He had a hand across Martin’s back and the other behind his head, against his hair. He pulled him close, so close that he could feel Martin’s heartbeat against his chest. His once-upon-a-time assistant was still for a second, hesitant, but then he buried his face into Jon’s neck, so that Jon could feel his breath across his skin. Martin’s fingers grasped the back of Jon’s sweater. 

A part of Jon felt selfish, right then, and guilty. Martin had asked to be left alone so that he could work on whatever he was doing for Lukas, and Jon had no right to interfere, to mess with his life- again.  
But Jon welcomed the pang of guilt, just as he had welcomed his sadness when Martin had spoken. It cut through the hunger. He wondered if this moment could also cut through the fog of Loneliness that drowned Martin. Martin pulled him even tighter, and Jon had his answer.

Jon thought that maybe the pain and the hunger were worth it for this.

He thought he hadn’t felt quite so human in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd really love to know what you thought! <3
> 
> This is a bit different from what I've written so far, but it was so much fun to write so I hope you guys enjoyed it! <3


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